Some people might say my dad is a shitty dad. A shitty dad because I don’t see him that often, that he doesn’t call very often. But the truth is, my dad is a wonderful dad. Maybe not the best one, but still, a wonderful one. The truth is that I’m a shitty daughter. I could call him too, you know. I could text him first. The truth is that he loves me a lot, that he cares about me. You see his face lighten up when he can help me out with something. You can see him in pain, when I’m in pain. I look a lot like him.    Our biggest difference is that people say he’s a shitty dad while people don’t say that I’m a shitty daughter. Although our behavior is exactly alike. I love you, dad, I really do.

You like me. I like you. A lot. Everything I crave for right now are your hugs. But I’m so afraid, you won’t like me anymore. I sometimes don’t even like myself. I still want you.